


Burnt Cake & Bitter Tea

by Otonymous



Category: SLBP - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: Jealousy and miscommunication make for a sweet confession from Kyoichiro





	Burnt Cake & Bitter Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the time before Kyoichiro and his MC have fully solidified their relationship. Hope you all enjoy this read!

“What…is _that_?”

Kyoichiro slips his kiseru pipe from his obi, bringing up one end to prod at the charred mass before him.

“Castella."  MC replies brightly, hoping his sharp eyes wouldn’t notice the increasingly firm set of her jaw. “You liked it so much the last time we were at Kiyosu Castle, I thought I would make it for you.”

Kyoichiro blinks a few times in disbelief.

“Yes, well,  _that_ was indeed castella and edible.   _This_ looks like something that’s destined for the garbage heap. Please, do us both a favour and don’t overexert yourself by experimenting in the kitchen. Not everyone has the good fortune to have a cook capable of making European sweets like Lord Nobunaga.”

MC’s eye twitches at his mention of her. “You’re not even going to try it?”

“I think not. Isn’t it enough that I already eat your Nanban Reuri? Even you couldn’t whip up a stomach remedy strong enough to deal with the aftermath of eating that.”

“Fine.”

MC moves to snatch the plate from beneath Kyoichiro’s scrutinizing gaze, sliding the shoji doors shut behind her with such force the walls tremble.

“Hey! You’re liable for any damages if you tear the house down!”

His voice chases after her receding footsteps, stomping towards the kitchen, before he wonders aloud to no one in particular, “What in the world has gotten into her?”

* * *

 

MC scrapes the fruit of her misguided labour into the trash, embarrassment blooming in crimson shades on her cheeks. Why did she have to throw a fit in front of Kyoichiro and behave like a petulant child who didn’t get her way? Certainly, if she was trying to gain his affections and get him to notice her the way he noticed Lord Nobunaga’s beautiful cook, this was the wrong way to go about it.

Thoughts of their last trip to Kiyosu Castle swirl about her head as she bends over the wash basin, absentmindedly running her hands over the dirty dishes. Lord Nobunaga’s cook was young, beautiful and female, looking fresh as a flower in spring when she breezed into the main hall to serve tea and the castella she was so adept at making. From the way Nobunaga gazed at her, it was clear that she was held in much higher esteem than a mere cook in her lord’s heart and mind. That much was expected.

What wasn’t expected was the way Kyoichiro’s eyes followed her every move.

“Jerk! I hope you get captured by Iga!”

A tidal wave of soapy water spills onto the floor as MC’s fists pound the surface of the grimy pool. And in her mind, she knows she is being silly, but all the same, the tight coil of anger in her gut starts to unwind as she sets about cleaning up the mess, sheepishly muttering,

“Just kidding.”

* * *

 

Ishikawa Goemon made his rounds at lightning speed that night, having another mission lined up after his usual house calls. An exhausted Raita dragged his feet home before surrendering and falling asleep on the tatami in the middle of the room. Kyoichiro carefully picked up the recumbent fox and tucked him into bed before creeping off to MC’s room, still donning the disguise of his alter ego.

For the past few days, she had locked herself away in her chambers immediately after supper, not emerging until serving breakfast the next morning. Days at the shop weren’t much better either, with her keeping their interactions to the bare minimum needed to run the business. As much as Kyoichiro hated to admit it, her cold shoulder treatment was slowly but surely killing him. Clearly, something was wrong, but he had no idea as to what and she refused to divulge her reasons when questioned. Tonight, however, he was determined to find out.

Kyoichiro had stalked past her room on previous evenings when he noticed her lantern lit long after the time she should have been asleep. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard the faint mumbling of her voice amidst the sounds of brush on paper.   _“What is she doing?"_   He had wondered, suddenly concerned that her drastic change in behaviour was related to these novel nocturnal activities.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he discovered from his hiding spot in the ceiling.

“So what if I’m bad at cooking? No one ever died from eating bland, unevenly chopped food that _may_ be slightly overcooked. You know what people DO die of? Not having the right medicine on hand — THAT will do you in! Sorry if I can’t cook. Guess I’ll just have to make up for it by saving some lives then, stupid Kyoichiro!”

He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to suppress the laughter that would have given him away had MC not been so absorbed in her journalling, slowly voicing her thoughts as her brush flew up and down the page. Kyoichiro mentally chastises himself, thinking he could no longer afford to point out her inadequacies as a shinobi without being hypocritical.

“I bet if I were beautiful and sophisticated like Lord Nobunaga’s cook from Kyoto, he would’ve crammed the entire castella cake into his mouth without a second thought, burnt or not. Can it be helped that my fate dictated that I be born not only a shinobi, but a fugitive one at that? I am a country bumpkin by necessity! What I wouldn’t have given to poke his eyes back into their sockets. With the way he stared at her, I’m sure all types of lewd thoughts ran through his mind…”

 _“Oh, for the love of all the gods…the bumpkin’s got it all wrong!"_   Kyoichiro sighs inwardly, the situation finally dawning on him. Admittedly, he _had_ been completely enamoured during their audience with Nobunaga, but the object of his affection was not the lord’s cook, but rather the tea caddy that never left her side.

Lord Nobunaga had been testing him that day, ostentatiously serving them tea and castella as a superficial token of gratitude for the rare European clock Kyoichiro presented him with. Though unassuming in its appearance, the _Tsukumonasu_ tea caddy was a priceless treasure that daimyos would readily part from their domains for, and only true experts would be able to recognize its worth at a glance.

Kyoichiro had heard talk that Nobunaga was starting to utilize prized teaware in his diplomatic negotiations. If he was truly a merchant of worth, Kyoichiro would prove indispensable in helping Nobunaga amass his collection, given his extensive travels and contacts with other wealthy merchants and lords. To that end, the daimyo of Owari kept his sharp eyes trained on Kyoichiro, seeking not only his recognition of the _Tsukumonasu_ tea caddy, but also the merchant’s receptivity to be complicit in his plan.

Caught up in calculating the risks and benefits of the proposition, Kyoichiro hadn’t noticed MC’s increasingly sullen expression as she watched bite after bite of castella disappear past his lips.

Finally slipping from MC’s room in the early morning hours, Ishikawa Goemon heaves a heavy sigh as he pulls on Kyoichiro’s robes. He makes his way to the kitchen, anxiously rehearsing the lines he knows he will have to recite when dawn comes.

* * *

 

“You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my travels, I think I really prefer country bumpkins to big city girls.”

MC’s hand flies up to cover her mouth as she almost spits out her breakfast, the other reaching for her tea to chase down errant grains of rice in her throat. She levels her eyes at Kyoichiro, who continues to talk without ever meeting her gaze, a gentle shade of pink suffusing his cheeks as his chopsticks dip gracefully in and out of his bowl.

“If anyone were to ask, I’d say those country girls are handier to have around. Sure, they may not know much about the latest fashions or how to properly apply rouge, but they’ve probably had to do everything themselves, lacking the conveniences of living in a city.”

“Since you are of the opinion that I have half a brain, please kindly enlighten me as to where exactly you are going with this?” MC says, brows furrowed in suspicion as she moves to set down her bowl and chopsticks.

Kyoichiro follows suit before reaching a hand down to retrieve a plate from beneath the table. He finally meets her gaze as he slides it in her direction, sheepishly saying: “I would rather live to eat another day’s worth of burnt food than die without your medicine.”

MC looks at the peace offering, feeling ridiculously happy at the sight of the castella Kyoichiro made with his own hands, just as misshapenly charred as the one she had baked for him days ago.


End file.
